


Kara Thrace & the Adama Brothers

by coffeesuperhero



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-24
Updated: 2011-05-30
Packaged: 2017-10-03 16:44:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeesuperhero/pseuds/coffeesuperhero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p><b>Disclaimers:</b> AU, baby! Spoilers through Daybreak II, just to be safe. This isn't for profit, just for fun. All characters & situations belong to RDM, David Eick, Sci-Fi, NBC Universal and their various subsidiaries. Title from a song of John Mayer's, which I also had nothing to do with.</p></blockquote>





	1. anything other than stay is go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimers:** AU, baby! Spoilers through Daybreak II, just to be safe. This isn't for profit, just for fun. All characters &amp; situations belong to RDM, David Eick, Sci-Fi, NBC Universal and their various subsidiaries. Title from a song of John Mayer's, which I also had nothing to do with.

Friday night finds Lee exactly where it always does, back pressed into the corner of Kara's ancient couch, one hand snaking under her shirt, the other cupping her ass to pull her closer. He kisses her, and he can feel her lips curve into a grin when she shifts her hips, grinding against his erection. He groans. She just laughs and reaches for the button of his trousers, still moving, still rocking against him.

She's wrinkling the hell out of a three-thousand dollar suit, and he's loving every minute of it. Hell, he loves _her_, not that he can tell her that. This is the fourth time in the last four weeks, and from what Lee can remember after the wine at dinner and the whiskey shots at the bar, every damn time has been exactly like this. The locations may vary, but it's always hot and it's always fast and she never lets him stay the night.

He's been trying not to think about it. He's been trying to take his brothers' advice, because Sam and Zak have never been wrong about a woman so far, and they're both happily married, so he figures they know something he doesn't.

"You can't tell her you love her after four weeks," Zak had insisted, complete with all the well-practiced eye-rolling of the cooler younger sibling. "Love's a four-letter word, dude. Hold that thought."

"Sam didn't wait," Lee had argued, gesturing with his salad fork, "with Eliza."

Zak had sighed and explained patiently that Sam was a special case, because he was the oldest, and because he was, as Zak had eloquently described him, "_a fucking musician_, Lee," and because by their nature, musicians were "_all sensitive and shit_," and Lee really ought to know that by now, and hadn't they taught him anything _useful_ in law school?

Sam had been even less helpful. "She's an artist, man," Sam had said, like that simple phrase explained everything, but before Lee could even form the question, the senior partner barged into his office with a new associate and a stack of paperwork, and that was that.

Lee had considered, briefly, hopping a plane to Oregon and showing up unannounced at the cabin, but he doubted seriously there was anything his parents could tell him that would shed any light on the situation, and besides, that would have meant missing Friday night, and he's pretty sure the end of the world wouldn't keep him away from Kara.

Love's keeping him here: love, and Kara's talented hands, which are currently pushing his trousers down over his hips. He groans again, but he doesn't give her a chance to laugh this time before he slips his fingers under the band of her underwear, quickly maneuvering the pad of his thumb so that he can press it directly against her clit. Kara leans into his touch, and when she moans a little he takes his hand away, grinning up at her indignant expression, and jerks her underwear down. She barely gives him thirty seconds before her hand is on his cock and guiding him in, and they both groan this time, pushing against each other until they both fall apart.

Kara is still poised above him, beads of sweat dotting her neck and collarbones. He reaches up and wipes them carefully away with the tips of his fingers, tracing gently up her neck to caress her face, hopeful that this will be different, that maybe this time she'll tell him to stay, but he stares just a moment longer than he should, and she's up, collecting her clothes, pulling her shirt on backwards and inside-out.

He sits up, sighing, and looks around for his trousers.

"Look, Lee," Kara begins, nearly stepping into a bowl of half-dry paint as she attempts to hop back into her underwear, "that's just... we're not, you know. A thing. I like where everything is, you know? Don't wanna move my shit around."

"I'm sorry," he says, standing and tucking his shirt back in, trying to ignore this feeling that they've been here before. He feels older in this moment than he ever has. "I didn't mean to, you know, upset your apple cart."

Kara leaves off trying to shove her legs back into her trousers for a moment and looks at him, eyes wide and staring and _familiar_. "Maybe that's what I want," she says, drawing imaginary circles on the floor with her bare toe.

Lee raises one skeptical eyebrow. "Maybe."

She lifts one shoulder, the motion a study in feigned indifference, and toys with a loose string on her shirt. "Yeah, _maybe_. It's been four weeks, Lee. What the hell else do you want?"

"A real answer," he snaps, shrugging his jacket back on as he heads to the door. "But then, I suppose you gave me one, because I feel like maybe is just an easy way to say no."

He starts to pull open the door, but her voice stops him. "For fuck's sake, Lee, a real answer to what?"

Lee feels his shoulders tense up, like his body's ready to throw punches, and it startles him. His hand falls from the door knob as he turns to face her. "I love you," he says simply. "And I don't need an answer, I just had to say it, because it's just true, Kara, and anything else... well, anything else would just be a lie."

He gives her a minute to respond, and when she doesn't he sighs and reaches for the door again.

"Well," he hears her drawl as he tugs open the door, "then where the hell are you going, Lee?"


	2. we'll be dreaming ways to keep the good alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimers:** AU, baby! Spoilers through Daybreak II, just to be safe. This isn't for profit, just for fun. All characters &amp; situations belong to RDM, David Eick, Sci-Fi, NBC Universal and their various subsidiaries. Title from a song of John Mayer's, which I also had nothing to do with.

On Saturday morning Lee wakes up naked and alone, sprawled sideways across Kara's platform bed. He doesn't know what he expected, exactly, but he feels like an idiot, and it's fucking cold, and nothing is ever going to be okay again. He should have listened to his brothers. He wonders if Zak and Dee are busy tonight, because he tries not to drink alone if he can help it.

"Let's get drunk and prank-call Sammy," Zak will inevitably say, because that's what he always says in these situations, and Lee will tacitly agree by pouring their first shots. Sam will play along, or he'll enlist his wife to play along, because they're family and for family, their father has always insisted, you let these things slide. After a few hours the nonsense will degenerate into inebriated incoherence and they'll pass out on Zak's couch to the tune of some third-rate cable movie that is only funny in these situations. They'll wake up the next morning nauseated and uncomfortable but warm enough under the blankets that Dee was kind enough to sling over them, and Zak will insist that they have an enormous greasy breakfast, because he saw this on an episode of Brainiac and it _totally counteracts hangovers, and that's science, dammit_. So they'll choke down some eggs and bacon and Lee will drive himself home, leaving his brother to the tender loving care of his wife while he soldiers on alone.

The thought of it almost brings a smile to his face, but then he remembers where he is, flat on his back in somebody else's bed, somebody else who was supposed to be here when he woke up. _For fuck's sake_, he thinks, _this isn't even my apartment, I can't just leave. What if someone breaks in? I might be liable, and won't that be just what I need_.

Lee is still lying there, feeling good and sorry for himself and trying to figure out what the hell to do next, when Kara pushes open the bedroom door, balancing two styrofoam cups in her hand.

"Fuck me, are you not awake yet? Get your ass out of my bed, Adama, I've got shit to do today." She grins at him, the expression lopsided but friendly. "Kinda makes me regret making you breakfast," she jokes, gesturing to the coffee.

He lifts his head and stares at her. "Kara?"

"No, Lee, it's the Ghost of Christmas Past," Kara teases, tapping her toe impatiently as he struggles to sit up. Lee manages not to leap out of bed and tackle her in his joy.

Kara hands him the cups of coffee, then flops onto the bed and fishes a prepackaged bear claw out of her jacket pocket. "Breakfast," she says, taking one of the cups back and ripping the package open with her teeth.

Lee lifts the lid of his cup and sniffs at the hot liquid inside. "Convenience store coffee?" he laughs. "You are one-hundred percent class, Thrace."

"I'm living the dream," she tells him, mouth full of pastry. She washes it down with some coffee. "You want some?"

"Yeah," he says, but when Kara hands it over he tosses it onto the table beside the bed and leans forward to kiss her instead, careful not to upset their drinks. He manages, mid-kiss, to take her cup from her without spilling a drop.

"Lee," she asks, as he swivels away to set the cups down, "what are you doing?"

"I believe the first words you said to me when you walked in here were, 'Fuck me,'" Lee reminds her, hands roaming over her back and slipping under the tail of her shirt, smiling when his fingers find bare skin. "I'm just following orders."

She pulls him toward her, then pushes him down onto the bed with a wink and smile. "You're gonna be trouble, aren't you," she says, no room for argument between the tone of her voice and the distracting pressure of her body against his as she climbs on top of him.

"Everyone has a skill, Kara," Lee says, grinning like an idiot and flat on his back on her bed again but hardly caring, now that the comforting weight of the woman he loves is what's pressing him into the mattress, rather than the force of his own despair. Before he can say another word, Kara has stripped off her shirt and her jacket, and he thinks, as she bends to kiss him, that this is going to be a _very_ good Saturday.


	3. I am your brother (your best friend forever)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimers:** AU, baby! Spoilers through Daybreak II, just to be safe. This isn't for profit, just for fun. All characters &amp; situations belong to RDM, David Eick, Sci-Fi, NBC Universal and their various subsidiaries. Title from a song by the [incomparable Renaldo Lapuz](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t3PMy_V-A_o), which I also had nothing to do with.  
> 

Zak can't really come to a decision about whether or not Sam's occasional visits to his classroom are a good idea. On the one hand, the kids love him, and he wants them to have the chance to meet more people like Sam, who are caring and generous and kind and level-headed, who make good decisions, who are famous without winding up half-naked and blitzed out of their minds on the kind of drugs you can only afford if you're famous.

On the other hand, the kids love him, and they're mostly uncontrollable for the rest of the day, and the kids have what they've been calling "fucking scary" standardized tests coming up. They've been doing test prep at Zak and Dee's for two weeks now. His father likes to call in the middle of it and ask his daughter-in-law how their very own _Stand and Deliver_ situation is going. Dee likes to accidentally miss his calls. Zak would be irritated, but that's more Lee's particular milieu, and anyway, he knows the Old Man is proud of all three of them.

All the same, he's happy that Sam's down for the weekend, with no chance to disrupt class but every opportunity for the two of them to fill up Lee's digital voicemail with messages. Zak and Sam have a theory that for all his blustering about how his office voicemail is "for _clients only_,you assholes," Lee actually appreciates the calls.

It's only noon on this fine Saturday, and they've already hit the message that tells them that Lee's inbox is full, so they laugh their way into the cafe around the corner from Zak and Dee's and order up a plate of celebratory burgers and fries.

"Fifty bucks says he told her," Zak declares, shoving half of a burger into his mouth.

Sam shakes his head and pops open his drink. "You're on," he laughs. "Lee's gotta know better by now."

Zak's mouth is still full, but that doesn't stop him from expressing his disbelief. "This is _Lee_ we're talking about, bro," he mumbles, managing to down the rest of the burger between his sentences. "Lee, who declared he would never love another after whatsherface broke his heart in the fourth grade. What the hell was her name? Erin?"

"No, no, man, you're way off, that was his first year of law school," Sam corrects. "Remember?"

"Is that the one that--"

"Left him for another woman? Yep," Sam nods. "Paulla? Was it Paulla?"

"No, no, that was what, seventh grade? With the sonnets. God, I forgot all about her."

"God knows how. What _was_ her name?"

"It'll come to me," Zak promises, tapping his index finger against his temple. "All I can remember right now is Lee in his little three-piece suit, reciting Shakespeare on the back porch into Dad's video camera." He runs a hand through his hair and clears his throat. "In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes, for they in thee a thousand errors note," he quotes, sighing. "He really could have picked some better poetry. Byron, for God's sake, Lee." He makes a clucking noise and bogarts Sam's French fries while his brother isn't looking.

"No one knows you take after the Old Man," Sam grins. "It's okay."

"I'm not ashamed. I quoted _decent_ poetry at _my_ wedding."

"And you cried, you big sap," Sam says, tossing a pickle at Zak.

"Dee still makes fun of me," Zak grins. He throws the pickle back. "Lovingly, of course. Oh, speaking of my wife, she wants to know if you picked your tux out yet," Zak asks, running a napkin over his mouth. "For your first big fancy awards show as a big fancy musician. Dee's got an old college buddy in the Village who does good work."

"Let me guess," Sam laughs. "You already told your friend I'd do it."

Zak just grins impishly at him and chugs the rest of his soda. "Margaret!" He shouts suddenly, and the people near them turn around to look their way. "Sorry," he says, waving at the other patrons. "But that was her name."

"Well, glad we settled that. Hey! Dude, you took my fries," Sam accuses. "And do you hear music?" He looks around the restaurant. "I swear, somebody's playing Jimi Hendrix in here."

"Great, you're hallucinating. First the fries, now the music. More side effects of the sudden onset of fame," Zak laughs, then frowns and reaches into his pocket just as the last traces of a guitar solo fade out. "Oh, shit, my bad. It was my phone." He peers at the display. "Ha!" he crows. "Speak of the devil. That was Lee. Probably leaving a voicemail, the loquacious little bastard."

"Why do I get the feeling that I'm about to owe you fifty bucks?"

The phone beeps at them. "Aaaand voicemail," Zak grins, flipping the phone open and toggling the speaker switch. "Also, I did take your fries, and I'm not sorry."

Sam starts to speak, but Zak waves his hand at the phone and Sam shuts up.

"I told her," Lee's voice announces proudly through the phone, and Zak lifts his hand in a victorious gesture while Sam rolls his eyes and makes a show of pulling out his wallet and counting bills.

"Everything went great," Lee is saying, and they can practically hear the smile on his face. "Guess it just goes to show you that I should never have asked for your advice in the first place! I think I'm gonna ask her to come to the cabin for Christmas. Oh, fuck me," Lee's voice says, "I think she heard that. Um, listen, I'll...call you later, okay?" There's a pause and a scuffle, and they can hear their brother's voice of protest. "Hey, Kara, dammit, what--!"

"Lee's indisposed," says an amused female voice. "He'll call you back."

"End of message," the phone announces, and they collapse against their seats.

"Best fifty bucks I ever spent," Sam manages through his laughter, and Zak tosses him a mock salute with one hand and wipes tears away with the other.

"Absolutely. Let's get outta here and go annoy my wife," Zak proposes, and they pay their tab and shuffle off down the sidewalk, cackling the whole way.


	4. once in awhile, when it's good, it'll feel like it should

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lee takes Kara home for the holidays.
> 
> **Title**: once in awhile, when it's good, it'll feel like it should  
> **Fandom**: Battlestar Galactica (2003)  
> **Pairing**: Kara/Lee   
> **Rating**: PG-13 for language and some suggestive winking ;)  
> **Disclaimers**: AU, baby! Spoilers through Daybreak II, just to be safe. This isn't for profit, just for fun. All characters &amp; situations belong to RDM, David Eick, Sci-Fi, NBC Universal and their various subsidiaries. Title from a song by John Mayer, which I also had nothing to do with.

Lee is still buried in a pile of paperwork when the plane touches down, and Kara has to punch him on the arm to get his attention. It hurts, and he tells her so, which makes her laugh harder than she did at the beginning of the flight when he pulled out his reading glasses and settled in to do some work while she drew caricatures of the flight attendants on one of his legal pads. "Nerd alert," she had teased. "How did I not know that you wore glasses?"

"Because I don't usually have a chance to do work when you're around?" he had suggested, looking facetiously at her over his glasses.

"You don't have to do any right now," she had said, with a sly glance in the general direction of the bathrooms.

"Let me finish this complaint," Lee had told her, and Kara had just sighed and muttered something about being cock-blocked by the law before going back to her drawings.

Several hours and no sex later, she is grinning at him and holding back a laugh as she watches him rub his arm. "Hey, Mister-I-Only-Fly-First-Class: Grab your gear, it's time to get off the plane."

Lee fights the childish urge to stick his tongue out at her and shoves his paperwork back in his carry-on instead. "Are you still pissed about the fact that you're not a member of the Mile-High Club yet?"

"Who told you I wasn't already?" Kara asks, all but clapping her hands in impish delight at his instantaneously jealous reaction. "That person is a liar. Or misinformed."

"I guess we had lives before we met each other," Lee grumbles, and they trundle off the plane and head to the baggage claim.

"So this is home, huh," Kara says, surveying the tiny airport. "Happening place."

Lee shrugs and pulls out his phone. "In a manner of speaking. We grew up in Chicago, you know. They just moved out here a few years ago, when we finally talked them into retiring. I'm still getting used to this."

"What's the plan here? They picking us up or what?" She scans the terminal like she's checking for bad guys, a habit she swears she picked up from too many childhood evenings spent watching old action flicks with her father, and Lee presses his lips together to keep from laughing.

"This isn't _Die Hard_, Kara," he teases, but they both jump when his phone rings. "Dammit."

"Duty calls?"

Lee makes an apologetic face as he tucks the phone against his cheek and walks away to take the call. By the time he comes back, Kara has found the only place in the airport that sells food and has worked her way through most of a bear claw, her traditional breakfast fare. He raises an eyebrow at it.

"Breakfast of champions, Lee," she says, picking some flyaway frosting off her jacket and popping it into her mouth. "Even when it's lunch." She grins mischievously at him. "I'm just the kind of girl you want to take home to mom, right?"

The sappy reply that he might have made is cut off by another phone call. "For fuck's sake," he swears, staring at the display. "They're gonna want me to come back early, I can feel it."

"So don't take it," Kara instructs, polishing off the rest of the pastry. "It's your fucking vacation. Won't there be people to sue when you get back to New York?"

"Not if they fire me," Lee says dubiously, but he lets the call go to voicemail. "At which point I'll probably be homeless, you know."

"You can sleep on my couch," she offers, grinning again, and his heart nearly skips a beat at the thought that she might let him move in.

"Thanks, but as I recall," Lee says, dialing his voicemail and trying to sound suave and noncommittal, "we don't do much sleeping on that couch."

"You're gonna call them back, aren't you?" At his nod, Kara makes an exasperated noise and plucks the phone out of his hand. "You wanted me here," she says decisively, tucking the phone into her pocket, "and you got me, Lee. But I'll be damned if I have to sit through an entire awkward week of staring at your family while we all wait for you to get off the phone."

He stares at her for a moment, trying to evaluate how serious she is about this. He's still not sure why she's here, exactly. He knows that he loves her, and she knows that, too, but it's not like she's ever bothered to say it, and here they are and it's Christmas and he's about to introduce her to his entire family, parents, brothers, and other various relations, and he doesn't really know how she feels, and it makes him nervous and more than a little insecure, not that he can tell her that without starting a fight, right here in the midst of this small crowd of people who are all smiling and happy to be home for the holidays.

"I've got you, huh?" he asks, and for him it's a very real question, it's _the_ question, and it feels like life won't go on anymore without an answer.

"Lee. We are not about to have The Talk in the middle of the goddamn airport, are we?" She crosses her arms over her chest, looking incredibly uncomfortable, and it occurs to him that this is definitely not the time and not the place, and that maybe his brothers have been right all those times when they said that Lee needs to learn how to listen, to really listen, and to not be _so damn serious_ about everything all the time, to _let love do its thing_, as Sam put it, and to _ calm the fuck down_, as Zak always said.

"I don't know if she cares," Lee had tried to explain, during the last of many late-night phone calls to his older brother. It had to be Sam, because if anyone was ever going to be patient with Lee, it sure as hell wasn't Zak. Zak's solution to these kind of things was to tell Lee that he was being an idiot, and then wash, rinse, repeat until they punched each other and then forgot what they were talking about in the first place. So Lee had learned, during the course of the few months he had been with Kara, to call Sam when he needed reassurance that the woman he loved might love him back.

"I think she'll say it, bro," Sam had said, voice full of that eternal optimism that still sometimes made Lee wonder if they were actually related. "You just need to listen."

"I _do_ listen," Lee had insisted. "I listen for a fucking living. All goddamn day, to anyone who walks into the office. I even take notes."

"Right. You listen to what your clients don't say, right? So, give it a try with your girl. You might be surprised."

This turns out to be Sam's version of "Take two of these and call me in the morning," and he gently refuses to give any more advice until Lee gives this a try.

So Lee takes a deep breath, and he listens. He replays the things they've said to each other, from the first moment he met Kara to this very moment, and this time, when he hears her say, "You got me," he smiles. He doesn't know why it has taken him this long to understand, and maybe it's the weight and pressure of the holidays, but it feels like a lot longer than the few months he's known her, like they've lived a whole lifetime in a less than a year. But he thinks he finally gets it, that there's more than one way to say _I love you_ and mean it, that to demand that she say it his way isn't really fair, that love can be deep and genuine and _real_ without being such an uphill struggle.

"I've got you. You've got me. We're both here. This is all that matters," he says, and he finds that he likes the brevity of it. No poetry or fancy language necessary, just the two of them. Somehow, it's more satisfying than sweet nothings or I love yous ever were.

"About time," she says, shuffling from side to side. She clears her throat. "So, how are we doing this, again? We come to them? They come to us? Are they here yet?"

"I usually rent something and drive up there myself," Lee tells her, nodding at the car rental place across the airport. "It's a nice drive when the weather's good. What, you nervous?"

"I don't get nervous," she mumbles, and he decides to give her that one, because he fears that otherwise she'll give him another one of her _friendly_ punches, and he swears he has a bruise from the last one. "Hey, bags are finally here."

"So, before we get there," Lee begins, helping her grab their luggage, and she starts to laugh.

"Oh, here we go."

"What?"

"Nothing," she says, laughing. "Look, I promise not to embarrass you. Unless they do it first. Then all bets are off."

Lee rolls his eyes. "I just thought it would be polite to tell you who was going to be there, so you're not, you know, ambushed by my relatives."

"All right, all right, who or what am I in for?"

"My brothers, obviously," Lee says, grabbing the last bag with one hand and numbering off relatives on the other. "And their wives. They'll all love you. In fact, if I don't wake up tied to a tree in nothing but my boxers at some point during this little holiday, I'm going to think that all of you have failed."

Kara's eyes are gleaming with mischief as they walk away from the baggage claim. "I would tell you that it's less fun when you give me ideas, but that would just be a lie, Lee."

"Sam's kids, my parents," Lee continues, pretending to ignore her but feeling awfully happy and warm and full of love about the whole situation. He's pretty sure he's grinning like an idiot again, but he thinks that's just something he's going to have to get used to. "And then there's the extended family, which is really just Uncle Saul and Aunt Ellen and the seven cousins. We're not technically related, but he's Dad's oldest friend, so we all kinda grew up together."

"Seven kids? Fuck me," Kara breathes. "And I thought your parents were crazy with three. Shit. Just how many rugrats are gonna be running around up here? Because I don't really fucking know if I can, you kno--."

"Refrain from using time-honored American phrases like 'Fuck me sideways with a broom?'"

"Everybody has a skill, remember. Mine's swearing. Well," she pauses, smirking, "maybe I have a few other skills. You got an opinion on that?"

Lee groans. "Yes, but don't remind me. We're staying in very small, very not private cabin for the next week."

"We'll work something out," Kara assures him, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. "You don't really expect me to go all week without a little more action and a little less conversation, do you?"

"We'll work something out," Lee repeats, determined and a little distracted. He really regrets working on the plane.

"Seriously, though, seven kids?" Kara is saying, and Lee shakes himself out of a detailed fantasy about the car ride up to the cabin and tries to pay attention.

"Relax, they're grown, and they may not even all make it. Simon's been working in Haiti-- he's a doctor, works for Doctors Without Borders. Sharon works for the CIA and we don't ask too many questions about where she's been or what she's doing, but sometimes her husband shows up, and they have two _rugrats_, as you put it, so, sorry about that."

"I'll survive," Kara drawls.

"Who else? Natalie and D'Anna are in LA, so they're usually around for Christmas-- oh, look, if D'Anna has any eggnog, just avoid the mistletoe, okay? Don't let Sam and Zak tell you differently."

"No mistletoe. Check."

"Those are the normal cousins. Then there's Daniel and Leo and John, and Leo is... I don't really know how to describe him, exactly. They don't hear from him very often. He just... he got really into philosophy in college and never looked back. Last I heard he was in Amsterdam with Daniel, though, so I guess he's doing all right. John... John's just an asshole, and none of us can really stand him. Mostly when he shows up I just try to keep my mouth shut and not commit an intentional tort."

Kara stops walking. "Did you just make a law joke?"

"I'm allowed one every six months," he says sarcastically, and sticks his tongue out at her.

"I've got better things you could do with that," she whispers into his ear, and Lee nearly whimpers. Kara grins and backs away. "Go get us a ride, will you?"

"Yeah," Lee manages to say, "sure. Um. Any, you know, requests?"

"Something fast with reclining seats and tinted windows," Kara suggests. She flops into a nearby seat and tugs a sketch pad out of her carry-on. "I'll be here, doing a one-line drawing of you naked. I think I'll give it to your mother as a Christmas present. Think she'll like it?"

"Should have rented a hotel," Lee mutters, and Kara just laughs and pulls out a pencil.

He watches her sketch for a second before turning to go. He loves the way she works, the way she shakes her head and stretches a little before putting her pencil to the paper. _And she loves me_, he thinks, letting the thrill of it wash over him and wash away what feels like several lifetimes of worry and doubt, all gone now, replaced by love and an almost palpable peace. It feels good, and it feels right, and suddenly he can't wait for her to meet his family, so that everyone else will know that Lee Adama loves Kara Thrace, forever, for always, the end.

"Get me a car or you're not getting any," Kara says, interrupting his thoughts. She's still drawing, but there's a smile on her face. "That's an order."

"Yes ma'am," he answers, and he tosses her a salute before he strolls away with hands in his pockets, whistling as he goes. _Merry Christmas, Lee Adama_, he thinks.


	5. make up your mind to have no regrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimers**: AU, baby! Spoilers through Daybreak II, just to be safe. This isn't for profit, just for fun. All characters &amp; situations belong to RDM, David Eick, Sci-Fi, NBC Universal and their various subsidiaries. Title from a _Damn Yankees_ song by Richard Adler and Jerry Ross, which I also had nothing to do with.  
> 

"Just what the lady ordered," Lee says, holding up the keys. "Something fast with reclining seats."

She grabs the keys and starts walking before he can react.

"Hey! You don't know where the car is," he points out, jogging to keep up with her.

"I can read, dumbass," she reminds him, laughing, jabbing a finger in the direction of the giant sign behind her head. "_I_ don't need glasses. Rental cars. That way."

"I never win with you," he grumbles, but he knows as he watches the swing of her hips that he's more than happy about it. He also knows that he shouldn't have turned her down on the plane, and the whole way through the terminal to the parking lot he's frantically trying to pull up a list of local hotels on his phone while Kara walks alongside him, whispering delicious things in his ear.

They don't even make it out of the parking lot. They barely even make it into the car.

Lee wonders briefly, as Kara's knees slide down either side of his thighs and his hands slide under her shirt, where his sense of propriety has gone. He's no stranger to breaking the rules, but he usually breaks them quietly, conspiratorially, with Sam and Zak to back him up. Kara's brand of rulebreaking is more of a _whatever Lola wants_ philosophy, and it's different and thrilling and sexy, just one of the many things that he loves about her, but at the moment he's not sure he should be loving it _here_.

"Are you sure we should be doing this here?" he mumbles against her neck. "We can always just, you know, get a hotel and tell 'em the flight was delayed."

"It'll be fine," Kara insists, determined fingers worming their way under the fabric of his shirt. "Just like that time we did it in your office. On your desk. I know you remember," she grins, and he does. Remembering that particular afternoon is one of Lee's favorite ways to wake up, at least when he has to wake up without Kara.

"I'm not likely to forget," Lee hisses.

"Neither is your secretary," Kara laughs.

He wants to tell her to stop, that they could get caught, that it would be embarrassing, but he also wants to tell her to keep going, that they could get caught, that he's harder just thinking about it. He looks over Kara's shoulder at the rearview mirror and watches an elderly couple shuffle past, and for the moment, propriety wins. "Okay, okay, enough, I have to drive," he insists.

"You shot me down on the plane," she reminds him. He notices, through the muzzy haze of arousal, that she's still unzipping his trousers.

Lee considers that it's really only a small part of his mind that thinks this might be a bad idea. Every other part of his body has formed a unified front against his brain. The blood in his dick is leading the protest, every little throb another beat in the chorus of his body's loud refrain, demanding that he let Kara have what she wants, already, because it's never been bad for him, and because this is the last chance before they get to the cabin, and because dammit, it's _Kara_, and her shirt is half-off and he wants her as much as she wants him. He's having a rough time arguing with all of that. "I didn't shoot you down," he protests feebly. "I was working."

"You're always working," Kara says, reaching down to stroke him. "How about you work on me for a few minutes?"

Lee knows when he doesn't have a winning argument. This is one of those times, and with his sense of _what is appropriate in public_ stashed somewhere in a dark, lonely corner of his mind, Lee gives in to Kara's insistent hands, to the warmth of her body against his, to the need to be as close to her as possible, and she lets out a long, satisfied sigh when he manages to marshal the mental wherewithal to undo her trousers and slip his fingers between her thighs.

"How about we make this more interesting?" Kara asks. For half a second he's absolutely sure that she's gonna hit the button that retracts the roof, and a little thrill goes through him at the thought of getting caught, just like this, Kara in his lap with her hand wrapped around his cock.

He groans. "What did you have in mind?"

"Whoever comes first has to ride shotgun," she says, grinning down at him as she shifts forward, and before he can answer, she's all around him and his brain is short-circuiting from the smooth warmth of her.

"That's completely unfair," he pants, and when she laughs and presses her lips to his, he knows that he's certainly not going to be driving. He figures he can at least give her a run for her the car keys before he comes, and from the sounds she's making he's doing just that. He comes with a shout that would have been her name if he could have formed words, and she follows less than a minute later. She's loud enough that he's sure that the entire city knows what they're doing, but he's so far gone in post-coital bliss that he hardly cares.

He barely has his trousers zipped up again before she has the car door wide open and she's hopping out, clearing her throat expectantly and standing there, one foot tapping impatiently, a winner's grin on her face. "Get outta my driver's seat, Lee Adama," she says.

Lee salutes her as tries to convince his legs that they're still functioning. "Yes, ma'am," he says, and she grabs the keys with a wink and a smile.


	6. so this is christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimers**: AU, baby! Spoilers through Daybreak II, just to be safe. This isn't for profit, just for fun. All characters &amp; situations belong to RDM, David Eick, Sci-Fi, NBC Universal and their various subsidiaries. Title from a song by John Lennon, which I also had nothing to do with.  
> 

They get to the cabin two hours later than they should have due to their parking lot activities and an impromptu pit-stop that still has Lee blushing. He's sure that his brothers will know what they've been up to as soon as they see him, and he's mentally preparing himself for a round of good-natured teasing from Sam and Zak and some knowing looks from Dee and Eliza, all with bonus innuendo, which God knows the Adamas are good at. He tries not to groan as he considers the added embarrassment of Ellen and Saul and the cousins.

If Kara's nervous, she's not admitting it, but he thinks she's walking a little closer to him than she normally does, and her shoulder bumps idly against his as they reach the stairs that lead to the front door. He leans into her for reassurance before he reaches for the door handle, and he sees a smile flicker across her face. He can hear his family's laughter before he even pulls open the door, and the minute they step through into the cabin, they're surrounded by people. Lee forgets how _noisy_ they are when they're all together, how Zak's boisterous personality enters a room before the rest of him does, how his mother's hair obscures his entire field of vision when she steps over and wraps him up in a hug. Even Dee is loud in her own quieter way, cracking jokes at her husband's expense and commenting with a wink and a smile about Lee's _woefully wrinkled_ suit, then cheerfully introducing herself to Kara while Lee is too flummoxed to say anything else.

"Welcome to an Adama family Christmas," Dee says to Kara. "I hope you like your people strong-willed and your eggnog stronger."

At that, Zak leaves off deviling Lee for just a moment to pantomime a wrestling move. "Did somebody say ridiculously strong and handsome man? Because I've got that covered."

"She was probably talking about Sammy," Lee jokes, just to regain a little of his equilibrium, and Zak gives him a playful shove before he links his arm through his wife's and tugs her into the kitchen, declaiming the wonders of Bill's homemade eggnog and declaring that it won't be Christmas until they've all had a few and then tricked an inebriated Lee into reciting some Shakespeare while someone secretly videotapes the whole affair, preferably the Saint Crispin's Day Speech, but really anything from _Hamlet_ would work too. They can hear Dee laughing, and she jokes that Zak will get bonus points if he can get his brother to do "to be or not to be" while holding that fake skull mug that Sam got in Vegas a few years ago.

It's only at that moment that Lee realizes that they're missing the calm center of the Adama family hurricane, and he turns to his mother, confused. "Where's Sam?"

"On his way! His plane should be landing soon. I'm so glad you could all make it," Laura tells him, smiling warmly, and Lee is suddenly reminded of all the years that he _hasn't_ been able to make it, that there will come a year when his parents won't, and he gets lost in memories of holidays past for a minute, thoughts of his father in that ridiculous reindeer sweater that some of his students sent him as a joke, the annual Adama Family Christmas Photo that always ends up sent off to one of the cousins for a photoshop job to erase whatever ridiculous thing Sam and Zak have done to Lee, the way they all smile and pretend to enjoy Laura's latest attempt at making an edible fruitcake. He's going to miss them when they're gone, he thinks, and vows to make more of an effort to get out here from now on. He realizes then that they're staring at him, that he has missed some conversational cue.

"We're, uh, glad to be here," Kara puts in after an awkward moment of silence that Lee should have been filling. She elbows him in the ribs, not hard, just enough to get his attention, and he smiles apologetically at her.

"It's lovely to meet you! And so good that you could drag him away from the city. We hardly ever see him," Laura says, patting Lee's shoulder.

"I work," Lee protests feebly, thinking guiltily of the phone in his pocket and the calls he hasn't returned, the calls he doesn't want to return. He wonders briefly what would happen if just quit.

"Dad's the only one around here who's really retired," Zak points out, clomping back into the room and handing Kara and Lee glasses of eggnog. Lee, for reasons he can't explain, feels a sharp stab of jealousy at his brother's simple, innocent act of goodwill, but he shakes it away, passes it off as residual frustration from years of brotherly competition. "We're all busy. I can't believe you don't even call your parents."

Lee takes a long sip of his drink and stares at Zak, wondering who on Earth this person is and what he's done with his carefree younger brother, the person who is always the first to tell him, loudly, that he's _taking life too fucking seriously again_, that he needs to learn to live a little. "You must be joking, right?"

Kara just laughs. "You've got a damn good poker face," Kara says, and Zak's frown turns immediately into a broad grin.

"I officially like this girl, Lee," he laughs, and there's that angry flash of jealousy again. Lee brushes it off, snakes an arm around Kara's waist, tells himself that this is stupid, that this is just Zak, that he's been devoted to Dee since the day he met her. Kara glances up at him curiously, but she doesn't step away, which he considers a minor holiday miracle, and then Dee takes that moment to come back from the kitchen with her own glass of eggnog.

She leans comfortably against her husband, who kisses her cheek and smiles like, well, like it's Christmas, and whatever weird worry Lee had just fades away. Dee winks at him. "It'll be nice to have someone around to keep our resident shark in line," she teases, and the others laugh, even Kara.

"I'm not a shark," Lee insists, and maybe he sounds a little irritated, but he's glad to have something else to focus on, comforted by the familiarity of their old family joke. "Don't start that again."

"You know, I've always thought of him more as a manatee," says a thoughtful voice, and they all turn to see Sam standing in the open doorway, messenger bag on his shoulder and a guitar case in his hand.

"Sammy!" Zak steps away from Dee, grinning, and pounds his brother on the back. They reach over together and pull Lee into a hug, and the next few moments are a blur of back-pounding brotherly affection.

"Where's the rest of the Sam Adama clan? I owe my number one nephew a round of thumb war," Zak says.

"They're catching a late flight," Sam explains. "Hey, K, good to see you again," he says, and Kara reaches over to shake his hand. Lee has yet another strange flash of jealousy, but this one is briefer, dimmed by the alcohol in his glass of egg nog and the light in Kara's eyes when she looks over at him after she lets go of Sam's hand.

"You too," she says to Sam, grinning. "Thanks for the tip about the blind date, by the way." She knocks her hip into Lee's, and he smiles at her.

"Yeah, thanks," Lee puts in. "It's been good for my uptight lawyer image to date someone who's usually covered in paint." Kara sticks her tongue out at him, and he just laughs.

"I knew you were a match made in heaven," Sam laughs. "On a completely unrelated note, where is the Old Man?" he asks, looking around at his family. "I brought him some stuff back from London. Did you know that the paparazzi will even follow you into the Sherlock Holmes museum? Like anything interesting was going to happen there."

"That's right, that's right, rub it in," Zak laments. "We all know you're famous, buddy."

"You're famous, too," Dee points out. "People fight to get into your classes."

"Or stay out of them," Zak disagrees, but he looks happy about it. "My final project for Senior English is highly regarded as the worst thing to happen to our students since the administration instituted the policy banning pajama pants."

"I'm so proud," Laura says, beaming.

"I learned from a pro," Zak says cheekily. "No one tortures students like this lady," he tells Kara, who looks vaguely disgusted at the thought of school.

"I wasn't really... school and I didn't really agree," she says, her words chosen with a care Lee had not expected. He is somewhat astonished at her tact.

Laura laughs and pats Sam on the shoulder. "Well, it didn't exactly agree with Sam, either. We got through it."

"Sam loved geometry, though," Lee says, grinning toothily at his older brother. "And algebra. You couldn't stop him from factoring trinomials. He'd be up all night, flashlight under the sheets, solving for _x_. Oh, the things I could tell _US Weekly_."

"Defamation," Sam grumbles happily, winking at Kara. "Don't believe a word he says."

"Truth is always a defense to defamation," Lee parrots, automatically returning to his law school years.

"You are dangerously close to your second law joke of the day," Kara tells him, and they all groan.

"If you can get him to stop doing that, lady, I will buy you so many drinks that the rest of the bar will get drunk from watching you," Zak says.

"I'm so glad we still have separate checking accounts," Dee mumbles, elbowing Zak in the side, and Kara lets out a loud laugh.

"I think I'm going to enjoy this Christmas," Kara says, and she and Dee clink their glasses together. Kara drains hers and frowns at the empty glass. "Let's go make more of this stuff. I've got an old family recipe of my own we can try."

"Her recipe is easy," Lee jokes. "Take one bottle of bourbon. Open it. Serve at room temperature."

"Hey, there's no chance I'll forget it if it's that simple," Kara grins, and Dee raises her glass.

"Hear, hear," she says, laughing, and the two of them head for the kitchen.  



	7. this is easy as lovers go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimers**: AU, baby! Spoilers through Daybreak II, just to be safe. This isn't for profit, just for fun. All characters &amp; situations belong to RDM, David Eick, Sci-Fi, NBC Universal and their various subsidiaries. Title from a song by Dashboard Confessional, which I also had nothing to do with.

His phone just won't stop ringing. He hates that he's breaking a promise to Kara not to abandon her to his family alone, but she fits in with his brothers and most of the cousins like she's grown up with all of them, too, so the third time he ignores a call and looks anxious about it, she gives him a friendly push out the door and tells him to come back soon. But he gets a call from the office during nearly every meal, and the only bonus that Lee can see from these incessant calls is that he has a ready-made excuse to keep away from his more annoying cousins. He'd hoped that John would stay out of town this year, but he comes for a day anyway, telling them all every other minute why they're wrong and why he's right. John is, after all, an expert on everything from property values in smalltown Oregon to corporate tax law. Lee is grateful, however, that the work calls don't keep him from missing Kara telling his pontificating cousin in somewhat explicit terms just how off the mark he is about painting techniques. Even Saul and Ellen applaud her, and John cuts his visit short, leaving the next day to go revolutionize some kind of gamma ray technology, or so he claims. The family breathes a little easier with him gone.

After a few days, all of the cousins and Saul and Ellen have gone, leaving only his parents, his brothers, their wives, and Kara. It makes it a bit more difficult for Lee to go unnoticed, but he's glad for the extra space.

When his phone rings for what feels like the fortieth time in one evening, Kara, Dee, and an extraordinarily inebriated Zak pin Lee to the couch while Sam wrestles Lee's phone away, only to have it knocked out of his hand by one of Zak's flailing arms. There's something of a scuffle as five pairs of hands scrabble for one small cell phone, which ends up being shuffled under the couch by someone's foot. It promptly begins ringing.

Lee's siblings, sister-in-law, and girlfriend slump against the couch, staring at him.

"Go on," Zak says, waving in the direction of the phone. "It's only Christmas, y'know."

Lee frowns at all of them. "I have responsibilities," he insists as he lies flat on the floor, fingers searching blindly under the couch for his phone. "Even at Christmas!"

"As long as you're happy," Sam says lightly.

"Of course I'm happy," Lee says. He pulls his phone out, triumphant. "Kara can tell you."

"He's happy enough after I've been at his office," Kara drawls. Dee gives her a high five, and Zak just groans.

Lee calls them back, but he has started to notice, even more than he had just days before, how much the calls eat away at his time: an hour here, forty-five minutes there. "I'm on the other side of the country right now," he protests after one particularly lengthy conference call, which leaves him missing the annual Adama family ugly Christmas sweater contest. He comes back to find that Bill has taken the prize this year. He has no idea where Bill managed to locate a sweater with reindeer drinking cocktails on a beach, but he has to agree that Bill deserved the prize.

In the end, it's the time with his family that does it, though much later he wants to blame it on the alcohol and the lowered amount of oxygen in the chilly mountain air. But truthfully, it's being here, watching all of them together, seeing Kara with them, everyone laughing, happy, carefree, until his damn phone rings and he's got to make that apologetic shrug as he walks away from whatever hilarious joke Zak is in the middle of telling or whatever Christmas carol Sam is playing with Dee humming harmoniously along next to him and Bill trying his best to find the melody but inevitably wandering off into some unknown region of notes that do not really resemble the song he's trying to sing as Laura sits there, her arm through his, grinning at Kara, who tries not to laugh, or at least, not too much. He hadn't realized how much he'd been missing this while he'd been away. It's too much time gone already, and no one to guess how much there is left.

He's tired of missing this, but more than that, he's afraid of losing more days to work and worry, afraid that he'll go back and forget to miss this time with them, that he'll forget to want something better. He's tired of not being actively engaged in living every moment of his life, and as he stares at the phone, he realizes that he's the only one who can really do anything about that.

He knew a guy, a couple of months into his first year as an associate, who just walked out one day. He remembers telling Sam about it on a late night video chat-- well, late night for him, anyway, Sam was somewhere across the Atlantic having breakfast at the time-- and saying how liberated the guy looked, but how scared, too, how that would never be him, not in a million years, because he hadn't worked this hard for so long just to let it all slip away so close to the end. Sam had nodded, listening politely before saying _Different strokes, man_, Sam's own gentle way of disagreeing without really disagreeing. Sam had asked, years later, over dinner with Zak and Dee, whatever happened to that guy, _You know the one, Lee_, and of course he had without any further explanation. People didn't just walk out like that every day, after all. The firm had a good reputation and a very low turnover rate, relatively speaking. "Oh," Lee had said, waving his salad fork vaguely, "he joined the Peace Corps or something. Got married, adopted a kid or three. That's the rumor, anyway." It was more than a rumor, actually, as one of the paralegals was the sister of the guy's spouse, and he'd seen the happy family pictures, so of course Lee knew all about it and knew that it was pretty much true, but he hadn't wanted to address the issue then, that somebody could just up and leave like that and actually not regret the decision, so he changed the subject as quickly as he could.

He's been so certain, all his life, that straying too far outside of conventional lines would lead to absolute disaster, that he could never even have imagined doing something like that, not back then. And now, of course, well, now there's Kara, and isn't she something unconventional, something wonderful, something altogether unexpected but never more welcome. It makes him want to live a life that is a little more outside his usual boundaries, a life with a little more meaning and maybe, just maybe a few less phone calls.

The voicemail is short and to the point, but not as impertinent as he would really have liked it to be. Then again, "Take this job and shove it," is maybe a bit much. He could use a decent reference, just in case. He waits by the phone for about half an hour, anxiously tapping his feet on the back porch desk and sipping some of Laura's slightly spiked hot chocolate to calm his nerves. His boss calls back just as he's about halfway through the cocoa. The conversation goes by more quickly than he thought it would, with only one, "Sorry to lose you, Adama," and then it's over, just an office to pack up when he gets back and notes to turn over to more junior associates.

So that's that, then. He stares at the phone for a moment, gulps down the remainder of hot chocolate, quite cool by now, and wanders back to his family in a state of mildly terrified euphoria.

Laura, predictably, is the first to notice that something is amiss. She squints at him curiously. "Lee? You haven't been drinking any of your uncle's leftover Jungle Juice, have you?"

"Good old Uncle Saul," Zak says, grinning, one arm around Dee. "He really has to give me that recipe."

"No, he really doesn't," Dee tells him, and he sticks his tongue out at her.

"Seriously, Lee, you okay?" Kara, with uncharacteristic affection, sidles over and puts her hand on his shoulder.

"I just quit my job," Lee announces. He beams at all of them like he's just brought home his first straight-A report card and he wants them to hang it on the fridge. "Really, I quit. So yeah, I'm fine."

"You just pulled a Jerry Maguire," Zak says skeptically, "and you're totally fine with it?"

"Fuck me," Kara snorts, her hand dropping from his shoulder to rest on her hip. "Does that make me the weeping secretary? Because, no thanks."

Bill shares a long look with Laura, then turns to Lee. "Son, I can't say I'm sorry to hear it, if it means you'll be around more often. So what's your plan?"

Lee's smile fades, the reality and the finality of his decision finally settling over him.

"Oh my God, oh my God, I just quit my job," Lee mutters, eyes wide.

"Okay, there he goes," Sam says, and he and Zak clamber up and tug Lee over to the couch. "It's cool, it's cool, just sit down for a second."

"Breathe," Zak advises, thumping him on the back.

"Oh my God. Oh my God," Lee repeats, sinking down onto the couch next to Dee.

Sam pats his shoulder reassuringly. "You'll land on your feet, bro."

"You can always give us a hand at the shelter," Dee offers. "It won't be anything like what you're used to, but it's work, for awhile."

"I didn't think," Lee says feebly, all his intangible feelings of freedom and joyful abandon covered over for the moment with the very real problem of bills and loan payments and _the fucking mortgage_. "I'm going to have to sell my place, and who the hell can find a buyer in this market?"

He stands up, pacing around the coffeetable. His family watches in merciful silence, at least for the most part. Bill hands him a drink and pats him on the back and tells him he'll figure it out somehow, and Lee takes the glass and paces some more and declares that he's going for a walk to clear his head. He hands his phone to Laura with a rueful smile, saying it probably won't ring, anyway, but that someone should have it just in case, preferably someone who will be polite, should a client-- well, former client, now-- call.

Lee tugs on one of his father's old coats and digs a spare pair of boots out of the closet in the hall. He's outside for maybe ten minutes, strolling around the frozen pond near his parents' cabin, when he hears Kara calling his name, and he has to smile in spite of all of his newly acquired worries.

"Wait up, Lee," she says, jogging up to him, wearing a coat that he recognizes upon closer inspection as one of Laura's. It looks like they've given her a hat as well, one of the oddly patterned things that Bill knitted years ago. Lee's glad that they like Kara, not that he'd really had any doubts. "So. You quit your job."

He frowns at her. "Yeah, yeah I did."

She nods and shoves her hands in the pockets of her borrowed coat. They walk in silence for awhile, Kara amusing herself by trying and failing to make smoke rings out of the trail of foggy condensation that her breathes leaves hanging in the air.

"Move in with me," Kara says, out of the blue, and he nearly falls over into the snow, because it doesn't sound like she's joking. She makes a face at him, like she's not anymore willing to have The Talk in the middle of snowy nowhere than she is to have it in the middle of an airport. "What? It's not a marriage proposal, or anything. I'm not getting down on one knee, here, Lee."

"I don't exactly have any income right now," he points out, spreading his hands. "I mean, I have savings, and there are some investments, I can transfer some money from some other accounts, but it's not..." his voice trails off as he realizes that she's trying not to laugh at him. "What?"

"Look, Mister Financial Wizard, my idea of online banking is the coffee can full of spare ones that I keep on top of my desktop monitor," Kara says, laughing, and he has to chuckle at that, because he's very familiar with that coffee can, having knocked it off the monitor more than once while distracted by kissing Kara.

"You did offer me your couch, earlier this week," Lee reminds her.

"If you're _very_ good," she drawls, knocking her shoulder into his, "maybe I'll let you upgrade to the bedroom."

"You really think we can do that and not kill each other?"

"Only one way to find out," Kara says, and he nods. She stops walking suddenly, and he frowns.

"Everything okay?"

"I'm glad you did it," she says slowly, like she's measuring the length of every word. "I think... I think you'll be happier."

"Me too," he says, and on impulse, reaches for her hand. She takes it, squeezing his fingers briefly, but though she relaxes her grip she does not let go.

"I've got you," she says, and he meets her eyes with a smile that is real and warm and hopeful and says, "Yeah, you do."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [the curse of the cabled sweater](https://archiveofourown.org/works/260895) by [coffeesuperhero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeesuperhero/pseuds/coffeesuperhero)




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